


For the Weekend

by nocturneblack



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Arguing, F/M, Married Couple, Married Life, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-06
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-10-28 15:20:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10833963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nocturneblack/pseuds/nocturneblack
Summary: Maybe this is what we’re best at, she thought as he kissed her and pushed her against the tiled wall. And would that be so wrong? To be better at loving each other than working out every little issue and problem they may have had?They say the first year of marriage can be the hardest. Arya and Gendry as a newly married couple.





	For the Weekend

**Author's Note:**

> This story contains a lot of plot, a lot of arguing, an examination of a relationship, and a very heavy dose of smut.

Arya Stark felt foolish for not believing the people who told her that the first year of marriage would be one of the hardest stages in her life. It was a sentiment that her mother and her sister had shared, and they had called her naïve when she’d told them that her and Gendry’s experience would be different.

Arya had truly believed that. She and Gendry had known each other for nearly fifteen years, since they were children, and the way she saw it that had to count for something. It would make a difference, she reasoned, if you knew your spouse’s intricacies beforehand— their tendencies, quirks, and annoying habits that were guaranteed to make living with them a pain in the ass for anyone else. Though she hadn’t lived with him before marriage, Arya had thought that knowing someone since you were ten would have exposed all of their complexities to you.

But there had been surprises, and there had been disappointments. It was like for everything she loved about him there was something that would get under her skin, something that she nearly hated. She liked how organized and focused he was, but she couldn’t stand his propensity to organize _her_ things, whether it be _her_ books, _her_ shoes on the rack, or _her_ clothes on _her_ side of the closet. His passionate nature had been one of the reasons she fell in love with him; Gendry was fierce in both his convictions and the way that he loved her. But from that passion and ferocity sprung stubbornness and, at times, jealousy.

Arya had thought she was well-acquainted with how stubborn the man she married— who had once been a boy she called ‘bull-headed’— could be. But now when they argued she couldn’t angrily hang up the phone or storm out of his apartment, because now she was living in _their_ house, and damn it, she didn’t even have her own room to escape to when he wouldn’t drop an argument.

But above all, the jealousy, not frequent but always sudden and ugly, had to be the worst of it. Of course it was something she had known about him. There had been occurrences while they were dating of Gendry starting or nearly starting fights with men who looked at Arya a certain way or, God help them, hit on her. She had been more than content to never bring up her exes, and it wasn’t as if she wanted anyone other than Gendry, but somehow his instances of jealousy always turned in to the longest, worst fights in the six months they had been married.

Arya sat in the passenger seat of his car as they made the four hour drive to his half-sister Mya’s wedding, thinking about how the fight they were currently embroiled in had everything to do with Gendry’s jealousy and, to make it even worse, revolved around Ned Dayne, of all people.

It was stupid, she realized, to wait to tell Gendry what Mya had told her weeks ago, that Ned would be at the wedding, until the moment they had set out on their car trip. But she had also thought that being in the same room as her ex-boyfriend wouldn’t be a big deal to Gendry now that he was her husband. She had been wrong.

Ned Dayne was the high school boyfriend she once thought she’d be with forever. Her friends and family had thought so, too. But that had all changed when she moved to White Harbor for college and reconnected with Gendry Waters, a boy who had grown up with her brothers but had moved to the bustling college town a year after graduating from high school. Ned had chosen White Harbor because that’s where Arya wanted to go, but by the end of their freshman year he must have sensed his girlfriend’s feelings for the older, rough-around-the-edges Gendry, and had told her to choose between them. Arya had found the choice surprisingly easy, and Ned transferred to Riverrun the next year.

She had loved Ned, and she never wanted to hurt him (and had waited months after the breakup to even kiss Gendry, let alone make things official), but the way she felt about Gendry was _different_. Their connection was intense and instant— to her he felt like the best friend she had always seemed to be missing, and that didn’t even speak to the powerful attraction she felt toward him.

“How much longer until we reach the hotel?” Arya spoke over the noise of what she called Gendry’s “anger-punk” playlist.

“An hour,” he said tonelessly. She could only hope that he would be in a more pleasant mood in a few hours. Mya would kill him if he wasn’t.

She had dozed off by the time they reached the hotel, and she awoke to the feeling of him gently squeezing her upper arm. That was another thing she liked about him. Though he was six and a half feet tall and muscular enough to pass for a professional athlete, he always surprised her with how gentle his touch could be.

By the time they reached their room she could sense that his mood had improved by the slightest margin, but Arya knew not to try her luck. Rather than attempt to make conversation she opted for the shower instead, wanting to get a head start on getting ready for the wedding later that evening. She still had no idea how she was going to style her hair or which shoes out of the three pairs she had packed she would wear.

The hotel that had been block-booked for the weekend of the wedding was nice, and the bathroom and shower were spacious. Arya shed her sweatpants and t-shirt and stepped through the glass door and into the tiled shower, the water just below scalding. She recalled Gendry’s reaction to her telling him Ned Dayne would be at the wedding as the water poured over her face and chest.

“How does my sister know that prick?” he’d asked, his grip tightening on the steering wheel.

“She knows his girlfriend. She and Mya work together, remember? I told you that.”

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” His voice had been angry, and she knew they were headed for a fight, and a fight in the car no less.

It wasn’t like she didn’t understand why Ned was a sore spot for Gendry. It wasn’t like she was oblivious to the things her friends and family had said when she’d broken up with Ned and started dating Gendry.

She remembered what her mother told her, in particular.

The words _you’re making a mistake_ sounded in her head just before she heard the bathroom door open. The glass of the shower door was such that the view on either side was blurred, but Arya could make out Gendry standing at the sink to brush his teeth. She closed her eyes and let the water soak her hair before reaching for her shampoo. The door to the shower slid open, revealing Gendry, standing there naked and wearing the expression that made her fall a little bit deeper in love with him every time she saw it. The expression mainly said _I love you_ , but there was a note of shy apology to it that made it endearing to her, like he was quietly asking her to forgive him.

She stepped to the side to let him in and he joined her under the water’s spray.

 _There, forgiven,_ is what that step to the side said.

Slowly he brought his arms around her, pressing his lips to her hair and letting out a muttered “I’m sorry.” When her hands came up to rest against his lower back he kissed her, softly and hesitantly at first, but then more firmly when she reciprocated.

They usually made up this way, with their lips and hands and bodies rather than words; an apology beyond a simple “I’m sorry” was rare for either of them. There were times when she questioned whether or not that was healthy, whether or not they should make a more concerted effort to talk through their issues with one another. But that’s what seemed to happen during the arguments, and by the time they were finished fighting they had both said all they wanted to say, and there was nothing left to do but express their feelings the best way they knew how— physically.

Arya sighed softly when his lips went to her neck, his tongue lapping at her skin insistently as his hands ran along her thighs and clutched at her ass.

 _Maybe this is what we’re best at_ , she thought as he kissed her and pushed her against the tiled wall. And would that be so wrong? To be better at loving each other than working out every little issue and problem they may have had? She stopped thinking about it when Gendry got down on his knees. He placed kisses along her thighs, wrapping his arms around them to hold her steady. She looked down at him and he grinned up at her. He always enjoyed a challenge, and apparently had no qualms about the risk of her slipping on the slick tiles of the shower floor, though with his arms around her she _did_ feel secure.

She remembered the first time they had had sex with him holding her up around his waist, no wall behind her for support. They had only stayed that way for a few minutes before moving to the bed, but she had wanted to laugh (or would have, if not for the sensation of him fucking her), for it must have looked ridiculous, like something out of porn.

The water was no longer hitting her, the entirety of the stream falling on Gendry’s back, and she was beginning to grow cold. His tongue distracted her from that entirely, licking at her most sensitive skin and pushing inside of her.

Her husband had been the first and only person to ever go down on her. It was never something she had asked Ned for, and he had never reciprocated after the handful of times she had given him oral sex. She remembered that first time, on Gendry’s couch after they had been dating for a few weeks. He had positioned himself between her legs and was pulling her underwear down when she’d said “you don’t have to.” He’d looked at her skeptically before letting out a bark of laughter. “I _want_ to,” he’d told her.

The feeling of his lips and tongue on her, still the sweetest sensation she knew of, pulled her out of her reverie.

“Gendry,” she said breathlessly, her hands gripping his shoulders as the tension in her body grew to a pointed, aching peak. His arms held her tighter and his tongue pushed harder, flicking over her clit before he sucked it between his lips.

She came with a startled, jagged cry, her body crumpling against the wall as intense pleasure pulsed through her. Had he not been holding her thighs she was certain she’d be a heap on the shower floor.

Their fingertips were prune-like by the time they made it out of the shower— he’d washed her hair for her before washing his own, and had then spent an excessive amount of time lathering her body with soap. She had taken his cock in her hand at one point, but he’d stopped her, giving her a smile and saying, “later.”

It took her longer than him to get ready, finally stepping out of the bathroom with a light face of makeup, her hair half pulled up, and wearing a satin, mauve colored dress that went just below her knees and was more form-fitting than she was used to.

Gendry was sitting on the bed, waiting patiently in his dark grey suit when she stepped out, holding two of the three pairs of shoes in her hands.

“Which ones,” she asked, holding them out to him. His eyes were not on the shoes. He whistled softly as he looked her up and down, lingering at her breasts and the hint of cleavage the dress revealed.

“Gendry,” she said around a laugh, waving the shoes in his face.

“Whichever ones are better for dancing,” he said. She grinned at him, leaning forward to kiss him. Though he didn’t look it, her husband was a surprisingly adept dancer.

The wedding and reception were being held at a lavish hotel venue that was about a ten minute drive from the more modest hotel they were staying in, with the ceremony taking place outdoors in the garden, and the reception to follow in the ballroom. The weather was perfect for the outdoor ceremony, the sun shining but not too hot. The wedding seemed huge to Arya, and she recalled Gendry telling her that Mya’s fiancé had a very large family. It made her think of her and Gendry’s wedding, which had been under a hundred people. They had both wanted it that way, with just their family and closest friends in attendance. It was intimate, and special, and Arya thought back to how she had felt on that day as she watched Mya recite her vows. She reached over, grabbing Gendry’s hand out of his lap and holding it tightly in her own. He looked over at her with a questioning, worried glance, most likely due to the tears coating her eyes. She shook her head and smiled at him, wondering when she became so sentimental. Nearly crying at a wedding was something Sansa would do, not Arya.

Their hands stayed connected as they walked inside to the reception, saying hello to the various members of Mya and Gendry’s family they saw. The ballroom was decorated immaculately, with gold ribbons on the backs of chairs and bunches of white flowers in the center of each table. Before they made it to the table they’d been assigned Gendry went to the bar to get them each a drink. Shireen Baratheon, Gendry’s cousin, was seated at their table, and she sprung up excitedly to greet Arya when she saw her.

“Who else is at our table?” Arya asked after they said their hellos.

“Edric, I’m assuming,” Shireen said, referring to Edric Storm, Gendry and Mya’s half-brother. “Willow, of course. And Jeyne and her husband,” she added. “Oh, there’s Willow!”

Willow Heddle was carrying a glass of wine in her hand but set it down on the table to hug Arya and Shireen.

“I didn’t even see you guys outside!” she said. “I think I was sitting by people Mya works with.” She took in Arya’s appearance with raised eyebrows. “Arya, you look stunning.”

Arya, Shireen, and the Willow had all gone to college together— Arya and Willow had even been roommates their freshman year. Mya and Jeyne Heddle had been close since high school, and had graduated from White Harbor a few years before the other girls.

“I had to drive four hours to see a girl who lives twenty minutes from me,” Willow said. Arya felt a twinge of guilt at that, though she knew Willow meant no harm. Both women had fairly demanding jobs and busy schedules.

“Leave her alone, she’s enjoying marital bliss,” Shireen said from her seat. She was grinning at Arya. Willow and Arya sat down beside her, Arya leaving a seat to her left for Gendry.

“Where is my cousin, by the way?”

“He’s getting our drinks.”

“Is he treating you right?” Willow asked conspiratorially. “Because we’ll kick his ass if he’s not.”

Arya laughed. “He is, don’t worry.” Their fight in the car was the furthest thing from her mind.

“There he is!” Shireen shouted, getting out of her seat to hug Gendry after he set their drinks down.

“Ah, the other half of the newlyweds has arrived,” said Willow.

“Newlyweds? Wouldn’t that be the two people we all just watched get married a few minutes ago?” Gendry asked as he slid Arya’s champagne toward her.

“Yeah, but I still think of you guys as the newlyweds. Your wedding was what, five, six months ago?”

Gendry draped his arm over Arya’s shoulders, looking at her with a smile that made his blue eyes crinkle at the corners.

“Six,” Arya said, not looking away from him. How did he do that? Just by looking at her he could make her feel like they were the only two people in the room.

“The two of you are so sweet it’s _almost_ disgusting,” said Shireen.

Not long after that Jeyne and her husband, as well as Edric and his girlfriend, sat down at the table. Arya hadn’t seen Jeyne Heddle since her and Gendry’s wedding, and she enjoyed catching up while they waited for the food to be served. The food was just as incredible as the venue and the decorations. As Arya was finishing her chicken she saw the bride making her way to their table. Everyone at the table showered Mya in congratulations as she approached.

“I just want to thank you all for coming. It means so much to us,” she said. She spent time chatting with everyone at the table before she crouched down next to Arya.

“Mya, you look beautiful,” said Arya. Mya’s short, black hair was pulled back from her face with a pearl headband. Her dress was flowing and strapless with a lace bodice. Mya smiled at her.

“I’m so glad you and Gendry are here, and I’m so glad you guys are together” Mya gushed, and Arya wondered how many glasses of champagne she’d had. “I know that things with your family and everything made it hard for you guys to get married.”

Arya turned to look at Gendry to see that he was in conversation with Edric, oblivious to what his sister was saying.

“And I just, it makes me so happy that the two of you made it.” Her eyes, the exact same shade as Gendry’s, were sparkling up at Arya.

“That’s so sweet of you, really,” Arya told her.

“Did you know,” Mya went on, “that the first time I met you, I said to myself, ‘that’s it, she is it for him. That’s the girl he’s going to marry.’”

Arya smiled at her. “What made you think that?”

“The way he looked at you. How happy you clearly made him.”

Just then an older woman, perhaps an aunt, approached Mya, drawing her away from their table. Gendry turned to Arya then, asking if she wanted to dance. She said yes, and he took her by the hand to lead her to the dancefloor. She had had three glasses of champagne by that point, and was feeling just buzzed enough to really get into it— she moved her hips freely, her arms looser as they found the rhythm of the upbeat pop song playing. She danced with her body close to his, his hands resting on her waist or hips as she brushed against him. Gendry had taken off his jacket and loosened his tie, his cheeks slightly flushed from the alcohol and dancing.

When a slow song came on she made to head back to their table, but he grasped her arm, pulling her to him as he wrapped his arms around her. She brought her arms up around his neck, bringing her chest against his.

“Do you know what song this is?” he asked, leaning down to speak into her ear. Arya listened to the first few notes before she laughed softly. It was “their song.” Or rather, the song Sansa had picked for them when Arya told her they needed a song to have their first dance to at their wedding. They swayed to the slow and steady rhythm now, and Arya was glad she had picked the shoes with a lower block heel.

“What do you say to you and me leaving a little early?” she said. “Heading back to the hotel and finishing what we started earlier?”

Gendry bent his head to place a kiss on her neck, just below her ear, causing a shiver to course through her.

“I say that’s an excellent idea.”

When “their song” ended they made their way back to the table to grab his jacket and her purse, having every intention of leaving the reception right then and there. It was then that she saw Ned Dayne at their table, chatting with the Heddle sisters. He looked the same as the last time she saw him— same boyish face, same blonde hair, same lanky yet athletic build. She had really hoped they would go the entire night without seeing him. Maybe they could avoid him; maybe she could walk ahead of Gendry, grab her purse and his jacket and leave before he even saw Ned. She had just begun to increase her speed when she heard her name.

“Arya!”

She froze. So much for the plan. So much for Gendry’s good mood.

“It’s been years!” Ned called, advancing toward her. She looked to her right. Gendry’s face was blank, his eyes trained on Ned Dayne. Arya reached for his hand to find that it was clenched into a fist.

“Hi, Ned,” she said, keeping her tone as neutral as possible. For one horrifying instant she thought he was going to hug her. He seemed to drop that idea when he saw Gendry beside her, the bright smile that adorned his face slipping just a bit.

“Hey, Ned,” Gendry said, and Arya thought his tone was already far too tense.

There had been a period of time, right after she and Ned had broken up, wherein he had tried to win her back. He thought the best way to do this was by digging up dirt on Gendry, going as far as texting her to tell her about his string of foster homes and the time he’d spent in a juvenile detention center when he was sixteen. Arya, of course, already knew these things. Though Ned later apologized, she supposed that the whole incident had really cemented Gendry’s intense dislike of her ex-boyfriend.

“Hey man, how’s it going?” Ned asked, greeting Gendry. Arya thought he sounded nervous, and probably rightfully so. Gendry grunted a response. Arya squeezed his hand in hers.

“How have you been?” Ned asked her, as if he was dying to catch up.

“Good, really good,” she said, a tight smile on her face. “We were actually just about to head out.” She stepped toward their seats to grab the purse and jacket.

“You’re leaving?” Willow asked, disappointment evident in her voice. Arya shot her a significant look, hoping she would realize the intensely awkward nature of the situation Arya was currently in.

“Well, don’t let me stop you,” Ned quipped with an easy smile.

“We won’t,” Gendry said irritably. Arya squeezed his hand harder, turning away from Ned and attempting to turn Gendry away as well.

“Before you guys leave,” Ned spoke, and Arya wanted to scream in frustration. “I just want to congratulate you both— on the wedding.”

Gendry froze momentarily, his shoulders tensing, before he turned to face Ned once more.

“Really?” he asked, a challenge in the word. Oh, no. Arya knew that voice. It was the tone that Gendry took whenever he was gearing up for a particularly heated argument. It usually meant he was in the mood to yell. Arya turned back around and lightly tugged on Gendry’s arm.

“I… what?” Ned seemed baffled by Gendry’s response.

“Gendry,” Arya warned in a low, urgent voice. He ignored her.

“Because I heard you had a very different reaction when you first heard that we were getting married.”

Arya’s eyes widened. No, no, no. Clearly Gendry had had more to drink than her, because that was the only way he’d be bringing this up. The people sitting at the table were looking at them now, the eyes of Willow and Jeyne and Jeyne’s husband moving back and forth between the two men.

Ned had the good sense to look confused, his eyebrows drawing together as he looked between Arya and Gendry.

“What was it that you told Sansa?” Gendry asked, his voice growing louder. At that moment Arya wished she had never pushed Sansa to reveal what Ned had said to her upon hearing that Arya was getting married. Gendry took a step closer to Ned, Arya’s hand still gripping him around the elbow.

“Because I heard that you said that Arya ‘deserved better.’” He was standing directly in front of Ned now, and Arya pulling on his arm was having absolutely no effect.

“So which is it? Is it ‘congratulations’ or ‘Arya deserves better?’”

“Look man, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ned said, his tone and stance defensive.

“Oh come on,” Gendry laughed humorlessly. “That’s a chicken shit response.”

The people at the surrounding tables were looking at the two men now, like they were awaiting the altercation that seemed inevitable.

“I think you really mean what you told Sansa,” Gendry continued, his voice raising. “And by ‘better’ I think you mean _you_. Have I got that right, Ned?”

“ _Gendry_ ,” Arya said harshly. “Don’t do this. Let’s just leave.” She would have dragged him out of the room if she were physically capable. Ned was glaring at Gendry now.

“I think you should listen to Arya,” he said. Arya knew before Gendry reacted that it was the wrong thing to say.

“Don’t you fucking talk about my wife,” he shouted. Arya moved quickly, standing directly in front of him to put herself between the two, her back to Ned. She spoke so that only Gendry could hear her.

“I’m leaving now, do you understand? Whether you come with me or not is up to you, but I’m leaving.”

He looked down at her, his cheeks flushed, his nostrils flared, his eyes like storm clouds. She would not be there to watch him do something stupid. She would not be there to watch him get escorted out by security. When she started walking toward the door he followed her. Though she was relieved it didn’t show— only her crackling anger could be sensed in the expression on her face and the nature of her stride. When they reached the car she rounded on him.

“Give me your keys,” she demanded with her hand out. He glared at her.

“You’ve had more to drink, and I’m good to drive, so give me you goddamn keys.”

“They’re in my jacket pocket,” he growled at her. She fished them out of the jacket she was holding and got in the car.

They spent the drive back to their hotel in silence, but Arya knew it was coming. She was seething, and she could tell that he was, too. It didn’t come out until they were in the elevator.

“What the fuck was that?” she spat.

“He just had to say something,” Gendry shot back, staring down at her.

“He was congratulating us! You’re the one who acted like a complete ass!”

Gendry scoffed as he made his way out of the elevator, Arya storming after him.

“I’m the ass?”

“Yeah, you are,” she said as she dug through her purse to find the key card for their room. “Why did you have to bring that up? What he said to Sansa? Why does it matter?” she asked when they were inside their room.

“Why does it matter? Why does it fucking matter?”

“Yeah, why does it fucking matter?” she said, crossing her arms tightly over her chest.

“Because he can’t just say shit like that about you!” he shouted.

“Oh so you were defending me, is that it?”

“Yes! Not that it matters to you, clearly!”

She rolled her eyes at him, her anger threatening to explode, before walking into the bathroom, kicking her shoes off as she went. She stood at the sink to take her hair down and remove her earrings. He walked in after her like she knew he would.

“Why are you defending him?” he accused.

“Defending him?” she shouted. “I’m not fucking defending him! He said that to Sansa months ago, it shouldn’t even matter to you. Do you feel better for saying something? Do you think that proved something? Because all it did was embarrass me!”

“Oh, well excuse me for being an embarrassment for you. And yeah, it did make me feel better, because people like Ned Dayne think I’m the fucking dirt beneath their shoes.”

“He doesn’t—”

“Like hell he doesn’t! Don’t act like that’s not real, Arya, don’t fucking act like there weren’t people there tonight who think that you made some huge mistake by marrying me.”

She hated this. No matter the reason, so many of their fights came back to this.

“Yeah? Well fuck those people!” she yelled, her voice louder and more frantic. “I don’t give a shit what they think of us!”

She pushed past him, exiting the bathroom and standing by the bed. Her fingers worked at the zipper at the side of her dress.

"And your family?” he said from behind her. “What about them?”

She whirled around, the thin straps of her dress slipping off her shoulders.

“ _I chose you!_ ” she cried, her exasperation and anger bubbling out of her. “I _fought_ for you. I married _you_ , not him!” She let her dress fall around her waist, her chest heaving in the uncomfortable confines of her strapless bra.

“Why do you still let it bother you?” she asked him.

“Don’t act like this isn’t a big deal!” he shouted at her. In the back of her mind she hoped that the walls were thick enough to prevent someone from hearing them and calling down to the front desk to complain.

“This isn’t about me being some jealous asshole—”

“Well you’re acting that way!” she interjected. He took a step forward so that he was standing directly in front of her. She was so used to their size difference that she often forgot how large he was, to the point that it caught her off guard when people commented on it. But she was reminded now, when he towered above her and stared down his nose at her. She crossed her arms, as if to signify that she was standing by her statement.

“You make me so fucking mad sometimes.”

“Are you going to put another hole in the wall, then? Or maybe you want to go for something bigger this time, maybe throw the TV across the room?”

He made a huffing sort of sound, his nostrils flaring.

“Ned Dayne,” he continued, ignoring her barb, “is still a big deal because everyone in your life wanted you to end up with him! It was a fucking national tragedy when the two of you broke up and you started dating me!”

She couldn’t exactly deny what he was saying. While her friends had at first seemed confused by her decision, her family had been shocked and, in her mother’s case, outraged.

“I broke up with him because I was in love with you,” she said, not sure what else she could say, feeling like she was on the verge of tears. She told herself not to cry.

Gendry sighed, his gaze dropping to the floor before returning to her face. His anger seemed to have dissipated, replaced with some sort of sad desperation that made her chest ache.

“I’m sorry I acted that way. I just…” he paused, closing his eyes. She knew this was hard for him, but she needed to hear him say it this time.

“You just what?” she prompted, but her voice was softer than it had been moments ago. He opened his eyes.

“I hate that Ned thinks that he deserves you. I… I want to feel like _I_ deserve you.”

It was like the Gendry from her childhood was standing before her— the Gendry that didn’t speak unless spoken to, the Gendry that carried his father’s abandonment of him like it was his cross to bear. Arya uncrossed her arms, her hands coming out to grip his forearms.

“You’re so stupid sometimes,” she said softly. “Ned Dayne,” she continued, “means nothing.” She got closer, pressing her chest to his.

“I hate that you feel like you don’t deserve me. Because for me,” she said, her voice growing thick, “it’s always been you. No one— no one else fucking matters. It’s _me_ and _you_.”

He stared down at her, his blue eyes piercing her, and his face softened. His eyes trailed down to her chest and a smile tugged at his lips.

“I want to say something romantic. But your tits are really distracting.”

She laughed, the tension leaving the room.

“Take me out of this dress, then.”

He pulled the zipper at her side the rest of the way down, pushing the dress down her body until it pooled at her feet. His hands went to her waist to pull her flush against him once more. He kissed her, and then his mouth was all over her— at her lips and then her neck and then the tops of her breasts, sucking marks into her skin. He practically tore her bra off of her, and then he was kneeling so that he could run his lips over her breasts, flicking and sucking her nipples with his tongue. When her hands began fumbling with the buttons of his shirt he pulled away, stripping off the garment and tossing it to the floor. She ran her hands over him, over the course dark hair that covered his chest and down the hard planes of his abdomen until she reached his belt buckle, swiftly undoing it and unbuttoning his pants.

She pulled his boxers down with his pants, his half-hard cock springing free. With her hands on his hips she walked him backward until he was sitting at the edge of the bed. She crouched between his legs, kissing the sensitive skin of his inner thighs as she looked up at him. He moaned low in his throat, his breath coming quickly as his hand stroked through her hair. When she reached his cock he was hard for her. She positioned herself so that his length was between her breasts. She pushed them together with her hands and moved up and down, his cock engulfed in the soft skin of her breasts, the head poking out when she moved lower. Gendry thrust against her with a groan, his hands on her shoulders for leverage. She kissed the tip of his cock once before pulling away, and then he was grabbing her, hauling her up and tossing her on the bed easily. Another wave of arousal hit her; she liked it when he was rough with her, when he was dominant, though she knew that most would be surprised to learn that about her.

His lips were at her neck again, and she was sure that hickies would bloom there for the first time in years. His hand was between her thighs, his fingers alternating between pushing inside her and circling her clit.

“You’re so fucking wet for me,” he said, his voice husky and right by her ear.

“Gendry,” she breathed. Her voice was insistent, begging. “Baby, please.”

She only ever called him ‘baby’ when they were having sex, and would likely physically harm him if he ever told anyone.

“What do you want?” he asked her, teasing her as he pushed two fingers further inside her. Her hand slipped between them until she was stroking his cock, her other hand at his cheek so she could pull his face toward her and kiss him roughly.

“I want you to fuck me,” she said when she broke the kiss.

“Yeah?” he asked, and he curled his fingers upward inside her, stroking against her in a way that made her cry out.

“Yes,” she gasped.

Gendry pulled his fingers out of her before getting off of her. He stood at the edge of the bed, grasping her behind the knees and pulling her toward him until her ass was at the edge of the mattress. He sunk into her, holding her legs up around his hips. He thrust into her none too gently, their position strengthening his movements. She ran her hands over his chest, over her own breasts, her body aching with something raw and hot and uncontained each time he moved in and out. She loved watching him; she loved the way his muscles bulged and rippled, loved the way his face screwed up in concentration as he fucked her.

The ache inside of her was building, throbbing and growing stronger and sharper, coming to a peak that she wanted to throw herself over.

“H-harder,” she barely managed to get out.

Gendry pulled out of her, his hands coming up around her waist as he scooted her back up the bed, away from the edge. He crawled over her, his mouth going to her breasts again, his teeth biting down just enough to hurt before he licked the area with his tongue. She moaned loudly as he did it, and practically shouted when he pushed himself back in her once more, spreading her legs as wide as she could for him. He drove into her harder and faster than before, his skin slapping against hers. Arya’s hands were on his back, her nails biting into his skin as curses and groans and cries of his name left her lips. One arm braced his weight but the other hand was in her hair, pulling gently as his breath came out harsh and ragged, his face just above hers.

She felt like there was nothing but him, just his body and hers, a part of his inside hers, loving her and fucking her into the mattress. She felt like she would cry from frustration if she didn’t come soon. She felt the heat of his skin against hers, felt the sweat of their bodies. He looked down at her then, his eyes watching hers as he slowed his rhythm, his thrusts deeper but still hard, his weight pushing down on her in a way that was strangely satisfying. She wanted to take all of him, to tell him she wanted all of him and everything he could give her. She wanted to come but at the same time she wanted it to last forever, to live inside the feeling of his body making love to hers.

He pulled one of her legs up around his hip and kissed her, really kissed her, his tongue pushing into her mouth as he sank into her as far as he could go, his hips pushing against hers, and she came then, her cry muffled because his lips were covering hers. It hit her hard, sending shock-waves through her, her body bucking against his wildly as she groaned against his mouth. He held her hip with one hand as he continued thrusting into her, and then it was hitting her again, maybe a second orgasm or a continuation of the first, and she tore her mouth away from his to cry out. She wrapped her arms around him and held him to her, and he came inside her with a groan as she kissed his face and his neck.

When they lay together afterwards he wrapped her in his arms, kissing her throat and her shoulder and her eyelids, anywhere he could reach as she breathed heavily, her body still coming down from its peak. He was always that way when he had been particularly rough with her, like he wanted nothing more than to take care of her. She wasn’t even sure if she could describe how it made her feel— knowing that the person she loved more than anything wanted nothing more than to love her.

“I love you so much,” he said against her neck, and his voice sounded earnest and vulnerable. She ran her hands through his hair and over his back, his skin warm and slightly sticky with sweat. They showered together after lying there for a while, and after a night that felt far longer than it actually was, they fell asleep, their skin naked and cool beneath the sheet.

They had to wake somewhat early the next morning for a brunch planned for the families of the bride and groom. Arya awoke before Gendry and before the alarm on her phone went off. She reached for it on the night stand, turning off the alarm that was set to sound in fifteen minutes. She saw that she had a text from Shireen.

_Hope everything is ok with you and Gendry. If you guys want to carpool to brunch tomorrow let me know. We can meet in the lobby around 9:30?_

Arya typed out a response.

_We’re good, no worries. That sounds like a good idea, we’ll meet you down there in an hour!_

She set her phone down and looked over at Gendry. He was sleeping on his side, facing her, the sheet tangled around his waist. Morning light crept in around the edges of the curtains, bathing the room in pale light. She really should start getting ready, she thought as she stared at Gendry. She had a habit of taking far too long in the morning, something which he liked to remind her.

She looked down to take in the state of her own appearance. There were two purple-reddish bruises from his mouth, one on each breast. She touched them delicately, and for some reason it reminded her of the first time they’d ever kissed. It was a memory that was vivid in her mind only because Gendry loved to tell it to people.

It was the night of Jon and Robb’s high school graduation party. Arya had been fourteen and tipsy for the first time in her life. The night had worn on until it was just her and Gendry left around the dwindling bonfire. With a few beers that had been snuck out of the refrigerator in her system, she had practically thrown herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him full on the mouth.

Arya bit back a laugh as she remembered the expression on Gendry’s face after he had pried her off of him. While it was probably one of the most embarrassing things she had ever done, in hindsight it was also hilarious and ridiculous, and was somehow fitting for the two of them.

She glanced at the clock on the night stand. In a few minutes she would have to wake him. She watched his face, peaceful and expressionless in sleep. She thumbed the wedding band on her left ring finger, pushing it around and around. Sometimes it seemed almost surreal, that it had all worked out in the end. Her mother hadn’t disowned her. Her sister had let go of her wish for Arya and Ned to get back together. Her friends had eventually seen why she’d chosen to be with Gendry. She thought back to what Mya had said to her at the reception. It was amazing to Arya, how they could fight with one another until their voices went hoarse and yet still be so obviously in love with one another.

When she was very young she had thought her parents’ marriage was perfect. And at times she had thought that Sansa and Willas had the perfect marriage, or at least that they were perfect for one another. When she married Gendry she realized that that had all been fantasy.

She reached out to brush a lock of dark hair off of his forehead. His eyes opened then, and when his eyes registered her face he smiled softly.

Maybe all they ever really had were scattered moments of what felt like perfection. That was enough for her. Maybe, she thought, there was even more beauty in that.


End file.
